Accidentals Series 02: Dancing About Architecture
by speshulduck
Summary: [au] life becomes a series of pleasurable moments as the bad and evil you see every day fades into the background. (warning: you might want to read religious ecstasy first)


title: dancing about architecture  
  
author: duck  
  
rating: pg-13. is it ever not?  
  
summary: life becomes a series of pleasurable moments as the bad and evil you see every day fades into the background.  
  
author note: i don't particularly care for this piece of...er...i don't particularly care for this one. it's a necessary step in the emotional development of the characters. show the evolution of a happy thing and *then* i can crush it under angst. this is pure fluff but without the sex ;) read "religious ecstasy" first if you want the character development to make any sense.  
  
oh yeah, the title is the former title of the movie playing by heart. "talking about love is like dancing about architecture."  
  
disclaimer: hey, guess what? they're not mine!  
  
-----  
  
"Liv! Where's your strainer?" Elliot looked around the kitchen, a slight hint of panic in his voice.  
  
"Above the sink," he heard her call back from her bedroom.  
  
"Above the sink, above the sink," he muttered to himself, juggling the steaming pot of noodles in his hands. Oh there it was. He had the pasta drained by the time Olivia entered the kitchen, her hair still damp from her shower.  
  
"Mmm, smells good." She reached out to lift the lid off the sauce pan, but he swatted her hand away.  
  
"Ah-ah," he cautioned playfully. "Go sit. I bring to you!" He gave her a gentle shove in the direction of the table.  
  
"Whatever happened to service with a smile?" she asked, a wounded pout firmly in place. Damn did she ever know what worked on him.  
  
"It died a painful death last week with Munch's pride. Double homicide. Dump job in the river. No one's found them yet or reported them missing, so I'm optimistic I'll get away with it," he said seriously, dishing out generous helpings for both of them. It had been another long day at work.  
  
"A victim of your aggressive tendencies, no doubt." He placed her plate in front of her and gave her his best evil glare.  
  
"I plead the fifth."  
  
"I could subpoena you."  
  
"I can see Alex flipping for joy over that one." They both laughed, then grew silent as they dug into their food. It was a comfortable silence though and Olivia finally spoke after she was halfway through her food.  
  
"This is great, Elliot. You made the sauce yourself?"  
  
"Yeah, price of imposing on you," he shrugged off. "I promise I'll look for a place soon and I'll be out of your hair."  
  
"Keep cooking like this and you can stick around." She assessed him thoughtfully. "Actually I've been meaning to ask you if you just wanted to move in outright. I can clean out my office--which I never use so don't even start--and you can move in there."  
  
He toyed with the spaghetti noodles on his fork. "I don't know, Liv. People talk enough as it is."  
  
"Whatever, Elliot," she dismissed. "You and I both know we aren't sleeping together and Cragen knows it too. That's all that counts."  
  
"I suppose," he admitted. "And we do make great roommates." They really did. They liked the same food, they had to get up at the same time, they hardly ever had huge arguments, and they had already started discussing cases in the evening that had been troublesome during the day. And Olivia took a lot less time in the shower than Kathy ever had.  
  
"Besides, my neighbors are probably appreciating the fact that you haven't banged on my door in the middle of the night in at least a week," she said with a grin. The sad thing is it was probably true. He felt himself inexorably warming to the idea. Let people talk all they wanted. Munch and Fin's bet would probably skyrocket once they caught wind of this.  
  
"Okay, let's try it."  
  
[one week later]  
  
"Ouch," was Elliot's only comment as he collapsed onto the couch. Olivia flopped down next to him.  
  
"Yeah, ouch," she agreed. They'd just finished moving up Elliot's things, which included a double bed that must weigh a ton. Her aching back was a testament to that.  
  
"Until you get a nice respectable single bed, let's never move," she suggested as she snuggled down next to him.  
  
"Agreed," he replied as he slid an affectionate arm around her shoulders. Ever since that plant two weeks ago they'd been inexplicably comfortable with physical touching. They'd never been leery of it before, but Elliot knew he was drawing a significant amount of solace just from being able to touch someone in the wake of Kathy's rejection. And as for Olivia, he knew she was still hiding her guilt well.  
  
"So what did Cragen say?" she asked sleepily. He'd gone to finally tell him about the impending divorce and the change in living situations.  
  
"He said he was fine with it on one condition. We're supposed to keep it out of the squad room."  
  
"So even he thinks we're together?" He felt her press her face into his chest. "We really can't win, can we?" her stifled voice asked.  
  
"No." He paused for a moment, relishing in the fact that they didn't *have* to sleep together to be this close. Not that he would have minded if they had been. Of course, Cragen thinking they were only drove home the fact that everyone had thought they were having an affair, meaning his divorce was inevitable and predictable. "Did everyone see my divorce coming except me?"  
  
"You did see it, Elliot, you just didn't want to believe it. Don't let it bother you too much."  
  
"I suppose." He'd try not to anyway.  
  
They were soon fast asleep on the couch.  
  
[two weeks later]  
  
"Aww, c'mon Liv!"  
  
"No," she said forcefully.  
  
"You know you want to." He stood above her, hand extended.  
  
"I don't dance, Stabler."  
  
"Neither do I. That's the fun part." He wiggled his fingers in her face.  
  
"I'll look like an idiot."  
  
"What, in front of me? I've seen you acting foolish before."  
  
"There is a slight difference between looking like a fool and acting like one."  
  
"We'll both look like fools. It'll be fuuuun," he drawled. He dropped his hand to grab hers and pulled her up. She didn't look amused, but she was standing at the very least.  
  
"I hate you," she stated evenly as he pulled her into what he obviously though was a dancing position. She sighed and rested her hand on his shoulder.  
  
"See?" he said brightly. "This isn't so hard. It's even fun."  
  
"That depends on your definition of 'fun.' And we're not actually moving yet."  
  
He closed his eyes searching for the beat in the piano jazz that poured out of the speakers. He started to bounce back and forth on the soles of his feet.  
  
"Elliot, try swaying, not bouncing," she suggested. If she had to do this she might as well do it right.  
  
"Okay," he said, following her suggestion. "And Kathy wondered why I never took her out to dinner and dancing."  
  
"So it's your lack of rhythm's fault that you're not romantic? It's just that you seem to have two left feet," she said as she yanked her own foot out of the way. "Let's try this, El. Keep your feet firmly planted and just move from your knees up."  
  
"I thought you couldn't dance." He looked decidedly amused with her.  
  
"I never said I couldn't," she said defensively. "Just that I don't."  
  
"Teach me?"  
  
"I don't really know anything. I hear the beat and I move. It's not hard."  
  
"We'll learn together! We can practice every night."  
  
"I'm never coming home from work again."  
  
"Please?" He looked at her with those blue eyes she had the worst habit of falling into. She could sense her resolve melting, just like every other time he looked at her like that. He knew how to push her buttons.  
  
"Fine," she sighed.  
  
"You won't regret it."  
  
"But none of those dancing classes," she qualified.  
  
"Well how are we supposed to learn?"  
  
"You're a smart man, read."  
  
[one week later]  
  
"'Arch your neck for better posture,'" Elliot read aloud. "'Place the hand delicately, but firm enough to guide.'"  
  
"'Maintain a two-inch space from your partner,'" Olivia read from her book. "'Keep your back straight and your hips still.'" She glanced up. "I would have thought the hips moving was necessary."  
  
"Must be only for some dances," Elliot said, shrugging. His eyes lit up as he turned the page and discovered--"Swing dancing!"  
  
"No."  
  
"Please?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"No."  
  
[one week later]  
  
"So what are you thinking?" he asked as they moved awkwardly around the room. He narrowly avoid smacking her head against the TV. She gave him the glare that said he'd better be more careful. He got at least five of those a night.  
  
"I think it's odd that she shot him after he raped her, when she had the gun in her purse the entire time," she finally answered.  
  
"Kind of hard to claim self-defense if he's walking away. I'd think she were lying about the rape if the kit hadn't come back positive, not to mention the physical abuse." They spun away from each other, then back again. "Sorry I'm not more graceful at this."  
  
Olivia shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Maybe he was coming back for a second round."  
  
"Or he threatened to do it again."  
  
"He's definitely not telling us something. Ouch!" He'd stepped on her foot.  
  
"Sorry," he apologized sheepishly.  
  
"I'm just glad your not wearing shoes," she teased. "Big clunkers hurt like hell."  
  
"I don't think we're getting the full story from either of them. Let's work him over in the morning, less harsh perhaps?" he asked. He spun her around under his outstretched arm and she snapped in tightly against him.  
  
"Why don't you try to be his friend and I'll try to get more out of her?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
[two weeks later]  
  
"Oh man, I thought Munch was going to explode today," Elliot crowed as he dipped Olivia down. She just missed the coffee table, even though it was pushed against the wall.  
  
"Careful with my head!" she exclaimed. "You should stop reminding him of the mic incident."  
  
"Come on, something that good?"  
  
"At least tease Fin too. Ouch!"  
  
"Sorry." His apologies were becoming automatic. He let go of all but her right had as she moved behind him. He twisted to face her. "How high's their bet gotten?"  
  
"I think it's in the one-fifty range. I'm not really sure. You know practically the whole unit's in on this bet now?"  
  
"Yeah, but those two started it. They won't let us forget it either."  
  
"And you won't let John forget the mic incident, which is when we found out about the bet in the first place, which you remind him of it every day and he in turn won't let us forget." She sighed. "I'll never understand men."  
  
"Good," he said as he chuckled. "Wouldn't want you having an unfair advantage."  
  
She childishly stuck her tongue out at him as they glided around in a circle. He laughed. "Now that's something I never thought I'd see."  
  
"What, me sticking my tongue out?"  
  
"No, you at a loss for words."  
  
"How's this: you're an ass."  
  
"Love you too, dear."  
  
[two weeks later]  
  
"So how were the kids today?"  
  
"They were great. Kathleen's worried about her new high school next year, but Dickie and Lizzie are issue-free for now."  
  
"How's Maureen?"  
  
"She wanted to come but she's wrapped up in summer classes. She called though. She said Kathy was going to call tomorrow."  
  
"What about?"  
  
"Something--"  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
"Sorry, haven't done that in a while, have I?"  
  
"Yeah, it's been at least a day."  
  
"Don't look at me in that tone of voice!"  
  
"Sorry, continue."  
  
"With what? Oh, Kathy calling. It's just something about the terms of the divorce. She's keeping the house, so that's affecting the amount of child support I'm going to have to pay. Something like that."  
  
"You'll still get to see the kids right?"  
  
"Not as much as I'd like to, but you know how it is with this job."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Hey, Liv?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Thanks for seeing me through this."  
  
"You're welcome, but if you really want to thank me you'd stop stepping on my feet."  
  
"Ha. I'll try."  
  
"Deal."  
  
[two weeks later]  
  
"Can we please try the tango?" He was begging with his eyes again. They'd caught a nasty case that week and they'd just wrapped it that morning. It put her in a particularly generous mood. Besides, he hadn't stepped on her toes in a week. They'd missed two nights staying down at the station house, but it was still impressive for him.  
  
"Fine," she groaned, hoping she wouldn't regret her kindness further down the road. "But you owe me big. And watch my feet!"  
  
"I have been!" he protested happily.  
  
"This is going to take months to learn properly."  
  
"It'll be fun," he coaxed.  
  
"I already said yes. And that's what you said when we started all this dancing."  
  
"Not having fun?" He looked rather hurt and she was surprised he hadn't heard the humor in her inflection.  
  
"I am, Elliot. We think cases through while we're doing it too."  
  
"Yeah, not as much escape from the office as I'd hoped," he admitted. Something about making the effort to dance in concert helped them think better together. Not that they'd had a problem with it before, it just worked smoother now.  
  
"You noticed Fin's been dropping a couple comments about how we're moving better around each other?" he mentioned.  
  
"I'd noticed. He's taking the sexual route though. And he's never going to find out about the dancing, right?"  
  
"Oh hell no. He's just starting to respect me."  
  
[two weeks later]  
  
"I don't think I can go to work tomorrow, Elliot." Olivia was hiding her face in his shoulder as she talked so it came out a bit muffled.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said--" she pulled away "--I. Don't. Think. I. Can. Go. To. Work. Tomorrow. Elliot."  
  
"Sure you can," he said as she buried her face again. "I am. A little embarrassment never hurt anyone. It's not a big deal."  
  
"Elliot!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Munch caught us tangoing, or trying to anyway. It's a very big deal!" Her exasperation was evident. They'd been working late on a case and had thought they were alone. Of course they'd been at one of the more sexually tense moments of the dance trying to work through a block in the case when John had come through the door. He'd smiled, walked to his desk and grabbed a folder, and left without saying a word.  
  
Elliot laughed. "Munch is probably trying to collect the pool right now." Whoever brought definitive proof that he and Olivia were in fact together stood to collect upwards of four hundred dollars.  
  
"That or trying to jack up the bets first."  
  
"You know," Elliot said thoughtfully as they stalked across the room cheek-to-cheek. "We should try to collect it."  
  
"What do you propose we do? Stand on our desks, profess undying love, and kiss passionately?"  
  
He actually considered it. "Not a bad idea."  
  
"Might I remind you that we are not in fact romantically involved?" He really was maddening. And incorrigible. And the best man she'd ever known. All at once.  
  
"They don't have to know that."  
  
"Elliot, we'd get fired."  
  
"Oh please. Cragen's in on the pool."  
  
"Really?" She hadn't known that.  
  
"Yes."  
  
It didn't matter anyway. "I don't care."  
  
"I suppose you're right." He grinned. "It'd be funny though."  
  
"Oh, very. So about that matter of not going to work tomorrow..."  
  
"If I'm going you're going."  
  
"Damn."  
  
[end]  
  
tune in next time for "possession," which will pick up the next morning and will be back to my normal format. 


End file.
